Survivors determined to tell horrors of nuclear bombing that is part of Japanese psyche

Tokyo: Reiko Toida's eyes and mouth widen in unison, as though she still struggles to compute the enormity of what she witnessed as a nine-year-old.

"First there was a blinding flash of light, a huge bang, and then what looked like a jellyfish appeared in the sky," Ms Toida, now 79, said. "I didn't know what it was and I kept watching it, transfixed."

Reiko Toida was nine years old when the US dropped an atomic bomb on Nagasaki. Photo: Philip Wen

Ms Toida had followed her mother and siblings out to the outskirts of Nagasaki weeks earlier to seek refuge from the constant air raids that were bombarding the city during World War II. But the huge mushroom cloud which plumed in the skies signalled something completely different.

Thursday marks the 70th anniversary of the first nuclear attack in history. On August 6, 1945, the US B-29 bomber Enola Gay dropped a 15-kilotonne atomic bomb on Hiroshima, killing 140,000 people from injuries and the immediate effects of radiation.

Three days later, a second bomb dropped on Nagasaki killed another 73,000, precipitating Japan's surrender and the end of the World War II. Statisticians put the total death toll associated with the attacks, including the effects of radiation, at 460,000 people.

The common thread in the testimony of Hiroshima and Nagasaki survivors is the scale of the destruction and human suffering. Streets were littered with bloated corpses, their skins seared and peeling due to the effects of radiation.

An August 6, 1945, photo taken shortly after the first atomic bomb ever used in warfare was dropped over Hiroshima. Photo: AP

Organisers at Nihon Hidankyo, a network of survivors from the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings, are working to preserve the hibakusha legacy by setting up regular storyteller courses for people who have no family members who had direct experience of the attacks.

While testimonies have been preserved by historians, and are available in great detail in video and text on the internet, the dwindling pool of ageing survivors remain more determined than ever to pass on their stories to future generations, believing nothing can substitute the power of their storytelling in person.

The gutted Hiroshima Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall, currently called the Atomic Bomb Dome or A-Bomb Dome, after the bombing on August 6, 1945, and last week (below). Photo: Toshio Kawahara/Reuters

"Our average age is now more than 80, so I'm not sure how much longer we can go on," says Akinori Hara, a Hidankyo official who was three when the bomb landed in Hiroshima. "We want young people to pass on our memories to future generations, so that the damage of nuclear weapons is never forgotten."

Recent events have also driven an urgency in hibakusha wanting their voices to be heard.

The Fukushima earthquake in March 2011 provided a poignant reawakening in the Japanese psyche around the dangers of nuclear power. The hibakusha are among the most outspoken groups against Prime Minister Shinzo Abe's contentious moves to reinterpret its post-war pacifist constitution, which will allow it to defend ally nations in an event of war.

Snap polls have shown as many as two-thirds of Japanese are against the move, despite Mr Abe talking up the threat of China as a rising military power.

"The 70th anniversary of Hiroshima and Nagasaki is also the 70th anniversary of Japan's surrender. We made a commitment in our constitution to never go back to war," says Mr Hara.

"To change this now is a 180-degree turnaround on our sworn promise. We are both angry and horrified about this."